Spike Speeder
by Jackal Scribe
Summary: Calvin's aged seven years, and some things have changed. But he still sees the world through the lens of his personas. His latest persona is named Spike Speeder, and he sees a different world entirely. Please R&R.
1. Spike Speeder Chapter 01

Usual Disclaimers to Ward Off Lawsuits: I don't own Calvin, Hobbes, Susie Derkins, Moe, Miss Wormwood, or Calvin's parents. All those characters belong to Bill Watterson. Spike Speeder however, is my copyrighted property, and you have to ask first before using him.  
  
His name was Spike. Spike Speeder, net runner. He dashed across the cold concrete streets of the Sprawl in a panic as the Wormwood Corporation's hit team fired upon him. Spike was rather easy to pick out of a crowd; wild yellow hair emerged in an array of spikes from his head, while his face was marked by bright orange cybernetic eyes covered by mirror shades and three different dataplugs. His right ear was decked out with three metal studs, and over his frame he wore a thrashed black leather jacket and gun metal grey pants. Jutting out from his jacket's left sleeve was a metal hand, an obvious cybernetic implant. Spike was one of the hardest and and fastest to ever step foot into the Sprawl. But even he couldn't dodge bullets. And so he ran for his life.  
  
Shots rang out and crashed into the grafitti covered brick wall behind Spike, sending bits of metal and brick flying. Thus far Spike had managed to be one step ahead of the bullets, but the Wormwood strike team just kept unloading their submachine guns in Spike's direction. Their bullets flew into a few bystanders, but Spike didn't have time to worry about that. He just kept running, even though he had no where to go. Spike's salvation came in the form of a rusted old delivery truck. It had been parked in front of him, blocking his access to an alley he had escape through many times. If he could just dodge the strike team's bullets just a little further, he might just make it out of this mess alive.  
  
He had reached the opening stretch with sweat trickling down his brow. A burst of gun fire crashed against the brick wall, and the shooter cursed. This was followed by a second burst of gunfire that likewise missed Spike. One volley after another missed Spike, and judging by the curses Spike was overhearing, his pursuers were running out of ammo. Grinning to himself, Spike bounded across the pavement, so close to the alley's mouth. The last and meanest of the hitmen leveled his weapon at Spike and aimed carefully, just as Spike inched towards freedom. The bullet fired, but Spike wasn't fast enough to avoid this round.  
  
The dodge ball smacked Calvin on the side of his head. He groaned as he went down, hitting the gym's floor as he heard the gym teacher's whistle.  
  
"This's still fun even in middle school," Moe gloated to his equally oversized friends. Already Moe was growing noticable facial hair, and he was nearly the size of an adult. Puberty had been very kind to Moe and his friends, granting them size, strength, and power over the smaller kids. Kids like Calvin, who had suffered the banes of acne and self-doubt, but with none of the benefits.  
  
Susie Derkins meandered over towards Calvin, who was still laying in a heap on the floor. She stooped down carefully  
  
"Calvin, get up so the girls' gym class can begin,"  
  
"Call a med-tech. My Nippon headware just got scragged by solos," Calvin said between groans.  
  
"You're still a weirdo Calvin," Susie said with a sigh. She helped Calvin to his feet before heading into the girls' locker room. Calvin limped over to the boys' locker room himself.  
  
"Dodge ball is murder," he muttered to himself.  
  
Thankfully, the rest of the day was dull and slow, a welcome change from dodgeball. Calvin spent most of the day as Spike Speeder, great literature and complex formulas lost in a sea of fantasy. At the end of the day, Calvin timidly approached the bike rack outside the school, his backpack over stuffed and slung over his shoulders. Despite the fact that he and his ricketty and rusted bike were still at odds with each other, they had come to something of an understanding; namely that Calvin needed his bike to get to school without taking the now dreaded bus, and that the bike needed Calvin to take care of it. Mutual dependence now defined their relations, and Calvin was reminded of this as he removed the chain he left on his bike.  
  
"Easy there bike," he said timidly. The bike just growled softly. Calvin crammed the chain into his already overstuffed backpack. He then mounted the malign machine and started pedaling. Heading towards home and Hobbes after dodgeball day was probably one of the most difficult trials Calvin faced on such a regular basis. 


	2. Spike Speeder Chapter 02

Spike Speeder raced across the highways of the Sprawl on his motorcycle, a sleek model covered in metallic red. A rapsy rumbling was all the noise the machine made as it flew across the pavement. The winds of the city and wastelands tried to follow Spike, but in the end he was too fast for even the wind. The neon lights of the Sprawl seemed to be a blur to Spike's eyes. By night the roads were mostly cleared, allowing Spike to glide at top speed. Although he enjoyed the rush and sweet thrill of unhindered speed, Spike had to get to his safe house as quickly as he could. His contact, known only as Agent Klaws, was supposed to be waiting for him there.  
  
The roar of another motorcycle caused Spike to glance backwards for a split second, but that was all Spike needed to spur him to hit his accelerator. He knew these clowns; they were the same bully boys Wormwood Corp had sent after him. Spike sighed as his tempermental bike began picking up speed, athlough Spike could tell the hit team was gaining on him. It never failed to surprise Spike how many hitmen would come after the Sprawl's hottest edgerunner, but that hardly made him used to it. As his pursuers slowly moved within arm's reach, Spike veered to the left shapely, off the highway and into a more obscure downhill road Spike knew like the back of his hand.  
  
This section of the highway was largely in ruins, mostly because of the worldwide riots of 2016. It was a bumpy ride, and Spike knew that even the slightest mistake in his steering could send him flying off the road at a frightening velocity. Weaving through the hundreds of abandoned and wrecked machines on the road, Spike couldn't help but grin when he heard the shouts of his pursuers crashing the obstacles he had goaded them into challenging. Spike turned his head for a split second to see the leader of the hit team skid to a halt rather than continue pursuit. Much as Spike savored the stupid look on the goon's face, this proved to be a mistake. The wheels of Spike's bike flew over the incompleted highway, sending the edgerunner flying.  
  
Calvin whimpered slightly when he realized he had once again gone flying over a cliff. No matter how many times he made the same mstake on his bike or sled, the crash landing never got any easier. All he could do was yell as he plummented back down to the earth, gravity's cruel whims bringing him down. He hit the ground of a thump, both savage bike and rider sinking into the ground for a few inches. When Calvin regained his senses, he looked up to see Moe and his friends laughing at him from the cliff.  
  
"Aw, did Calvin forget he couldn't fly?" Moe said in his ever deepening voice.  
  
"You wanna throw rocks at him?" one of Moe's underlings asked. To Calvin, all the massive nitwits of the school had started looking the same.  
  
"Yeah," Moe said as he stooped down and snatched up a rock. By the time he hurled it with all his considerable might, his friends had likewise readied stone missiles. Calvin's only option was to grab his bike and run from the stream of rocks. Somehow, despite being a natural reaction, Calvin's flight was laughed at and openly mocked, with a dozen insulting shouts following Calvin through the woods. 


	3. Spike Speeder Chapter 03

A tired, worn out Calvin sighed as he stored his bike in the garage of his home. Lurking in the shadows was a ragged old stuffed tiger, watching and waiting for Calvin. As Calvin made his way for the door to the house, the tiger stalked him, slowly and carefully. The beast's muscles tensed as Calvin approached the door. As Calvin reached for the door knob, the beast leapt out at him, grabbing Calvin in his arms and driving the both of them into a wall. When Calvin's adrenilene rush wore off, he found himself being embraced by a seemingly overjoyed tiger.  
  
"Tell me Hobbes," Calvin snapped, "do tigers naturally have jet packs in their butts, or was that an optional implant?"  
  
"A fine way to greet a compatriot," Hobbes replied.  
  
"Cut me some slack, I played dodgeball in gym today.  
  
"Ah, no wonder you're so cross," Hobbes said sympathetically as he lowered Calvin to the ground.  
  
"Yeah, that's pretty much what happened. Moe and his ugly friends decided to gang up on me and coach didn't care how hard they were throwing the balls. Once school got out they decided to try running me off a cliff in the woods," Calvin said with a sigh, making his way for the kitchen with Hobbes behind him.  
  
"How'd the bike take that?" Hobbes asked as he opened the pantry for a can of tuna.  
  
"Badly. I think my killer bicycle is ready to snap."  
  
"Well, at least you won't be surprised while everyone else is telling the reporters that it was such a quiet bike," Hobbes said as he put two slices of bread in the toaster.  
  
"Speaking of surprises, did you make those pills Mom and Dad are feeding me 'disappear' for today?"  
  
"Indeed I did. Although I must admit, leaving those things under your bed has induced a remarkable change in the monsters living there. They're more mellow and less cannibalistic."  
  
"Yes, but that's the kind of solution you can expect from a genius of my caliber," Calvin said with all candor, between bites of an apple.  
  
"While we're on the subject of genius, what are the odds that you'll be finishing you algebra homework tonight?"  
  
"Precisely zero," Calvin said as Hobbes rolled his eyes, "You have something to say Mr. Oppenhimer?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Besides, I've got better things to do tonight."  
  
"Would better things involve the television and computer?"  
  
"Don't you think that if I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it?" Calvin said as he began to sulk.  
  
"Consider it charity on my part," Hobbes flatly said as he bit into his sandwich.  
  
"You know what's really sad?" Calvin said as he tossed the husk of an apple into a trash can, "You're still the only friend I've got, no matter what you do to me."  
  
"Whatever happened to Susie?"  
  
"What about Susie?" Calvin snapped.  
  
"Nothing, I just thought she was your friend that was a girl," Hobbes said with a mischievious grin. Calvin just scowled.  
  
"Just because I've decided that not all girls are carriers of a contagious plague doesn't mean I'm falling for Susie," Calvin said with as much menance as a thirteen year old could manage.  
  
Hobbes just smirked as he polished off his sandwich.  
  
"Pipe down flea bait," Calvin said after a while. 


	4. Spike Speeder Chapter 04

Spike Speeder made the final adjustments on his deck, before he lifted one wire from the mass of redundant cords. He plunged the wire into his dataplug, and at the speed of thought, he was in the Net. He hopped on to the seemingly endless electron highway, and rode a surge of information the way a surfer would ride a wave. This was the rush Spike lived for, and he made no apologies for it. A bleeding edge deck, state of the art programs, and one of the most powerful minds in the Sprawl gave Spike free reign over the realm of the Net, a virtual reality where he was the hottest thing since the first super novas.  
  
Spike's consciousness charged through the Net, until he hopped off the electron highway and approached the Wormwood Corporation's mainframe. He made a quick scan of the front door entrance to the system, but quickly dashed over to the back door entrance he had left when he infiltrated Wormwood's system for the first time. This entrance proved to be much easier to access, and Spike headed in. Once inside, he started taking precautions as he combed the system for information on the hitmen who had been hounding him recently. He knew they were working for Wormwood, but the proof of the actual contract wasn't in the accessible portion of the mainframe. No matter.  
  
The plucky net runner continued searching the system for information on the hired goons. His scans of the datastreams lead him to a department sub-system he was certain belonged to the black ops arm of the company. It was a simple code he had to enter just to crack open the divison's normal activities. What he saw was scary. Weapons training, agent bail outs, combat simulations, all sorts of activities that seemed to be geared towards creating killing machines. Spike growled under his breath; even if he could proof this data was real, no one would care even if he brought to light. Now all he could do was try to get some more solid information on the hit team dispatched after him. Word on the street had given Spike a number of handles he could start searching for.  
  
The first handle he had didn't work. He put another handle into his search programs, and this one turned up data. Spike grinned as he scanned the records belonging to the handle "Morris." It seemed that Morris's boss had a great many things kind things to say about Morris, and the hitman had clearly never crossed his employer. Spike fired up a program that could change all that with but a few keystrokes. Once Spike had artfully altered Morris's records in the black ops department, he slide through the rest of the system, altering every reference to Morris in the most damaging ways the edgerunner could imagine. There'd be some very interesting happenings at the office tomorrow for Mr. Morris, and although Spike would rather not be around when it happened, the net runner would certainly sleep easier.  
  
"Calvin it's midnight, go to bed!" Calvin's father roared from his bedroom. Calvin panicked and quickly closed the programs he was using on the shared computer in the den. The computer was quickly shut down and any evidence of what he had been doing was erased frantically.  
  
"Calvin, I said now!" came another roar from the bedroom. Calvin scrambled to shut down the computer and dashed into his room. When he entered his room, he found Hobbes reading without a light. After stumbling over a stack of novels, consisting largely of the works of Gibson, Sterling, and Rucker, Calvin flipped on a light. Hobbes didn't look up from his book.  
  
"How'd it go?" Hobbes asked, his nose still in his book.  
  
"I think Moe's gonna have some problems getting a job at a hamburger joint after people find out he still has chronic nose picking and pants wetting problems."  
  
"Did you implcate him in the noodle incident on his permanent record?"  
  
"Naturally," Calvin said as he snatched his current book from his desk and laid back into his bed next to his best friend.  
  
"I gotta admit, you took that comment pretty well."  
  
"Hey, it was Moe from day one now. I'm as innocent as driven snow."  
  
"I'm sure," Hobbes said with a snort.  
  
It was then that Calvin's mother stalked into the room. She said nothing, and just turned out the lights and stalked back out with a growl. Calvin sighed, as a tentacle slithered out from under the bed.  
  
"Hey, kid, tiger," a voice from under the bed hissed, "You got any of those pills left?"  
  
Hobbes tossed a trio of pills to the floor and watched as the pills and tentacle faded back under the bed. It was then that Calvin set his book aside and tried to sleep. Hobbes continued to read, but he too quickly began sleeping, snoring softly in the night. Calvin would dream of being Spike Speeder, racing down electron highways. 


	5. Spike Speeder Chapter 05

Calvin's alarm clock screamed to life, and continued screaming at him until he woke up. Spike Speeder's world, the dark Sprawl that seemed to stretch as far as one could see, the wicked red motorcycle that the hacker trusted with his life, and the hard and oppressive streets where all the action was concentrated, all faded away as Calvin's eyes opened to the real world. Hobbes was still asleep, although how the same psychotic jungle cat who could hear Calvin a block away couldn't hear the alarm clock was beyond even Calvin's ability to comprehend.

"Lazy tigers," he mumbled as he rolled out of bed, searching the wasteland that he'd let his room degenerate into for some clothes. All he could find by way of pants was a wrinkled pair of black jeans, which had become something of a signature item for him. Despite all the mocking references to goths he received in the lunch room, Calvin was always the first to point out that he would never be a goth until goths sacked Rome again. The joke was lost to everyone who heard it. Calvin's pace of getting dressed slowed down drastically as he began to day dream about being a Vandal raider, pillaging and looting the once great city of Imperial Rome.

A pillow hurled by an annoyed and cranky tiger smacked into Calvin's face, and brought him out of his fantasy world. He shook his head and picked up his pace as his mother yelled at him. He grabbed an old orange t-shirt with an intricate tribal design imprinted in solid black on the front. Naturally, he thought it was simply the coolest shirt in the known universe and all points beyond that, and beamed with adolescent pride as he donned what he called his tiger stripes. He had found the shirt in a local mall, after a long hard search through the bargain bin of a department store. He had been looking to replace his collection of red striped shirts, feeling that made him look too young, and the tiger stripes captured his fancy in an instant. His parents, ever hungry for a chance to shut Calvin up cheaply, bought him the shirt he just had to have. Although no one had ever demonstrated having misgivings about his favorite shirt, wearing the orange cloth always made Calvin feel like he was on the edge and ready to fly beyond.

In fact, more than anything else, his shirt made him feel like Spike Speeder. And that feeling always made the day interesting. Tying his shoes and grabbing his black jacket before he left, Calvin trudged out of his room and sulked into the kitchen. A pair of frozen waffles that didn't spend a moment in the toaster were wolfed down by the apathetic Calvin, both of his half asleep parents eating at the same slow pace as he was. Between bites of his waffles, Calvin watched and waited for a chance to steal a sip of his father's coffee. His father turned his gaze towards the section of the newspaper his mother was reading. Calvin reached over and took a silent sip, replacing the cup as quickly as possible, all with the quickness of a card hustler.

Newly hopped up on caffeine, his newest vice, Calvin finished the last bite of his waffle, and dashed out of the kitchen. His parents were stunned by the sudden change in Calvin's demeanor, and wondered if maybe all those prescription pills they had given him had side effects. 


	6. Spike Speeder Chapter 06

Spike Speeder stepped out of the creaking elevator and into the underground garage where he kept the second most important machine he owned. His bike was waiting for him, as it always had. A fading grey plastic sheet was draped over the powerful machine, which Spike promptly pulled off and cast aside without much ceremony. It took him a minute to gaze at the crimson metallic beast before he could even think about mounting the metal steed. It took him one swift motion to get on to his motorcycle, and a flip of his wrist to bring the beast roaring to life. He then chuckled, remembering the advice he had gotten when learning to ride a motorcycle.  
  
"When maintaining a bike, treat it like a lover," Spike said to himself with another chuckle as he guided the machine up the ramp and on to the streets at ever increasing speed, "And when riding it, mount it like a lover."  
  
Spike Speeder was living up to his namesake on that morning. His mind and body were hyped up, and the wild rush of adrenaline surged through every vein in his body. His bike, his metallic crimson steed of the dark future, roared as it sent Spike flying across the pavement. The roads of the Sprawl were, for some reason, packed. But Spike didn't have time to waste in waiting in line like the rest of the Sprawl's commuters. His hyperactive state of mind had instilled in him a thirst for speed that would either be quenched in a glorious ride, or killed by waiting. Speed was an addiction for Spike, and knowing full well that this might be his only chance to get the good speed he needed to seize the day.  
  
Deviating from his ordinary routine, he fired up his bike's accelerator, and began weaving through the rest of the nitwits who had the ill fortune to be in Spike's way at a speed higher than it should have been. His motorcycle passed through the congested streets of the Sprawl, and although there was a nearly deafening chorus of car horns, screeching tires, and a barrage of curses from every language that could be heard anywhere in the Sprawl. To this, Spike only grinned, and headed towards the stretch of highway that lead Calvin to the heart of the Sprawl.  
  
Spike was tearing down the highways at breakneck speed, the usual speed for him. That rush of speed was a sensation sweeter than anything offered by a chemical or chip, and Spike pushed ever harder on his acceleration. Now he was flying over the pavement. Oh sure, a lot of people continued to express their irritation at Spike, but Spike paid them no heed.  
  
As moving like the wind became the norm, Spike began to take notice of his surroundings a little more than he had been. The first thing he saw was some unusual activity a short distance away from him. It looked like, yes, it was, a nomad convoy. A salvaged school bus served as the flagship of the convoy, surrounded by light pick ups with mounted machine guns and nomads on bikes not unlike Spike's for extra security. Always willing to take a risk, Spike retained his speed and headed straight for the nomads.  
  
The bus was slow, and with it, the security detail attached to it. But Spike would have none of that. He swooped past the bus, looking up at the windows of the vehicle absently, mostly out of curiosity. His face lit up when he recognized a face in a window. His neighbor, the woman living in the apartment complex next to his, was, for whatever reason riding with the nomads. He lifted his hand towards her in a greeting gesture, which was promptly nullified by Spike's sudden surge of speed, which allowed him to pass the convoy and continue his speed binge.  
  
Susie stared with disbelief at Calvin. It was nice that he waved, but considering his overly energetic expression and the speed at which he was pedaling his bike, she probably didn't want to be associated with him. For his part, Calvin kept weaving through and past pedestrians and other bike riders, much to the dismay of those he overlapped in his hyperactive state.  
  
"Who does he think he is?" she asked herself absently. 


	7. Spike Speeder Chapter 07

By the time the lunch bell rang, Calvin was coming down from his caffeine high, much to the relief of the students and teachers of his school. Earlier, he had been alternating between harassing teachers and trying to prove he was smarter than his peers, all at a frantic pace that only Calvin could keep track of. Anyone telling him to slow down, be it a teacher trying to understand his ad-libbed lectures or a hall monitor trying to overcome a force of nature, was ignored, not out of spite but simple inability to believe slowing down would be possible. It was only in the last fifteen minutes before the lunch break that Calvin began to realize that he'd be in detention for a while today. He sighed to himself as he walked out of his math class, praying desperately that gym class would be a merciful foot race or soccer match, as opposed to the more violent activities at which the school's hormone enhanced kids savored.  
  
He meandered over towards his usual spot after swapping a dollar that Moe hadn't gotten his hands on yet for a reheated chicken patty that seemed to be the size of a quarter sandwiched between stale white bread, a handful of greasy potatoes, and a large helping of fruit cocktail in heavy syrup. Much as it had been in elementary school, he always took his seat nearby to Susie's.  
  
"Hey Calvin," Susie said casually as he approached the table and sat down.  
  
"Hey yourself. You'll never guess what they're serving today," Calvin said with a grin that tried a little too hard to be wicked.  
  
"I get the feeling I don't want to know," Susie said with a vague look of disgust.  
  
"Looks like deep fried pigeon patty with a side of fried toenails and a bottle that apparently got mixed up with someone's urine sample," Calvin said almost cheerfully, still delighting in his gross jokes even after seven years, "I'd say it's better than yesterday's horse meat burgers."  
  
"Calvin, ew," Susie said as she lowered her sandwich and waited for the nausea to pass. Despite the sickening ideas Calvin always shared at lunch, Susie had gotten used to his brand of humor, although she was still a world away from appreciating it.  
  
"So what'd you get in your lunch?" Calvin asked nonchalantly, as though he'd never suggested that he was dining on pigeon and toenails.  
  
"A Swiss cheese and mustard sandwich, a cup of yogurt, and a box of juice. Are you going to continue being sickeningly weird, or will I be able to eat lunch in peace for a change?" she replied.  
  
Calvin shrugged in response, and started reluctantly eating his lunch. Susie couldn't help but chuckle between her own stalled bites of her sandwich as she noticed the changes Calvin had made since the first grade. He had lost his contempt for girls, and had become tolerable in conversation. He was still an unabashed slacker, conceited blowhard, and childish lunatic, but around her at least, talking to him was no longer the agony it had once been.  
  
About half way through his chicken patty, Calvin was abruptly grabbed from behind and forcibly spun around, causing the relatively small boy to yelp. 


	8. Spike Speeder Chapter 08

Spike Speeder nearly coughed up the flavored kibble he had been eating in the grease pit diner he frequented, along with what seemed like hundreds of Sprawl denizens, all of whom had gathered together for a quick, absolutely no frills fix of nutrient laced sludge soaked in artificial flavoring. Fortunately, he managed to restrain his gag reflex, and narrowly avoid splattering his contact with his lunch. Unfortunately, Spike found himself staring straight into the dark, angry eyes of the hit team leader. The assassin's malice were almost tangible things as they stared back into Spike's ever widening eyes.  
  
"Listen to me twinky," the over paid thug began, his voice heavy with rage, "I don't know why I came into the office today to find out that I had a dozen complaints logged in by the police, recommendations for me to see a head shrinker, suggestions that I be watched as a possible saboteur, and with a bad performance review for the past three years, but I've got a pretty good idea of who did it."  
  
"Surely you don't think I would do something so foolish as to mess with your records over the Net? Shouldn't you have some, you know, proof before you do anything hasty?" Spike blurted out nervously. Although he didn't take his eyes away from the corporate thug's ever darkening eyes, he could feel the weight of the entire diner's eyes falling upon the situation Spike now found himself in.  
  
"I don't need anymore proof than the fact that you're the only mark I've been sent after that could pull that trick off the way it was done. And let me assure you that there'll be hell to pay," the hit man growled.  
  
"Feh," Spike said with a wicked grin, "You've already trying gunning me down, running me off the highway, and no matter how hard you try, you still can't off me, Morris. Or should I call just call you by your street handle?"  
  
"You're one weird freak, you know that Spike?" Morris said, somewhat bewildered, although Spike couldn't tell exactly what it was that he said to confuse Morris for a split second, "But you know what? The rules have changed. Me and my team are going to murder you within the next twenty four hours with everything we've got. Now I can't take you out in front of all these people, but soon enough, you'll be dead."  
  
"I remain unimpressed," Spike said cooly, for staying cool was the cardinal rule for being considered a professional, although his expression betrayed his sudden fear, "Like I said, every last attempt you and your goons made on my life has failed. You're like an old cartoon, no matter how good you think your whacky scheme is, they just don't work. Try as you might, I'm just too fast and smart for you."  
  
"Laugh it up while you can Speeder," Morris growled as he lowered Spike back to the ground as harshly as he could without actually hurting the man, "but now, you're as good as dead. Hope ya have a fat policy on your life, 'cause your next of kin is gonna have Christmas come early."  
  
And with that, Morris stomped out of the diner, laughing a cruel, sickening laugh. Spike growled as he started catching his breath, watching Morris's back with a baleful stare. Slowly, the diner returned to normal, save for Spike, who continued to watch the diner's door as though Morris might reappear at any time.  
  
"Well Morris," he whispered to himself, "You've thrown down the gauntlet, but no corporate hit team on the planet can geek the hottest edge runner in the entire Sprawl." 


	9. Spike Speeder Chapter 09

"Calvin?" Susie asked well after Moe had left. Calvin spun around to find himself out of the Sprawl and back in the suburban middle school cafeteria everyone else thought he was in. Susie seemed taken aback by his zoned out expression, and remained silent for those first moments after Calvin turned to face her. Calvin returned to reality slowly, but his expression only grew more frantic as he started realizing what had just happened to him, and what was yet to come.

"It's gonna be a long day," he said as he sat back down with a nervous expression. He started chewing on the chicken patty again, his former air of humor gone.

"You could say that, yes. What'd you do to him to get him that angry anyway? I haven't seen him that furious since you left a stink bomb in his locker," Susie asked matter-of-factly.

"Oh, nothing much," Calvin whispered weakly, not believing a word he was saying, "just rewrote his records. D-did you know he was responsible for the noodle incident?"

Calvin tried to smirk timidly at his own joke, but Susie's gaze just grew harsher.

"Calvin, that's a crime and grounds for expulsion."

"H-hey, don't worry, I was careful," Calvin responded, most of his usual indignation gone. Susie just sighed,

"Well, if the school doesn't punish you severely, Moe and his friends will. You reeeally did it this time Calvin."

"Aw, they're not so tough," Calvin continued his in nervous voice, "He was just blowing off some steam, and he's all talk anyway."

"You honestly can't believe that. Last kid they did this too ended up in the hospital. They're going to beat you up until high school!" Susie said with that small bit of youthful indignation Calvin had learned to dread since he first started clashing with her a seven years ago.

"Susie," Calvin said, his tone turning grim, "those guys are going to be beating me up end high school anyway. They can't do anything they haven't done already to me. When I crossed them, it was a nothing to lose, everything to gain situation."

"You're brave Calvin, I'll give you that, but you're also completely insane and beyond hope. Why do I even bother talking to you, that hasn't changed since the first grade. Are you ever going to grow up?"

"Having seen what growing up did to my parents, I think we both know the answer to that," Calvin said, somewhat relieved to be back in the comfortingly familiar territory of verbally sparring with Susie. It was then the bell announcing the end of lunch echoed across the hallways. Calvin leaped out of his seat and dashed out into the open field that had all the kids were herded into for a short period of time that had essentially replaced recess. Calvin couldn't understand why they didn't just call it that; he suspected it couldn't be recess without a playground. He dashed out into the field barren of everything save grass that was either overgrown or ragged from being trampled by thousands of steps a day and a few chain link fences, heedless of anything that might be after him. The clouds refused to lift for his time outside, casting the entire field in weak light. Something about the bleak atmosphere stirred Calvin's imagination. 


	10. Spike Speeder Chapter 10

Author's Note: I gotta say, I'm surprised this story is so popular. I never really planned for it to grow beyond what I had originally conceived, but after much brain storming, I believe that this piece will start finding directions. I thank all my reviewers and Reya-Doombringer in particular.

Spike Speeder stepped out of the kibble and synth-food diner, back into the dark streets of the Sprawl. Of course the streets of the Sprawl were always dark, they had to be; it just wouldn't be the Sprawl without it. The crowds were as thick as they always were, but Spike was not amateur, and he knew enough to take advantage of the throngs of humanity in the streets. Slinking among the crowds and minding his own business, the most essential part of the Sprawl's local customs, the edgerunner seemed to disappear. Or at least he hoped he had. He kept an eye out for Morris and his boys, refusing to lower his guard once. When a pair of burly goons started pushing their way through the crowds, Spike learned that he wasn't half as invisible as he thought.

Spike tried to maintain his low profile as long as possible, hoping that the goons, who he recognized as part of Morris' crew. Getting a good look at the goons, Spike caught sight of the metallic red eyes and targeting plugs emerging from their wrists and going into their weapons. Probably budget samurai, nothing Spike hadn't seen from Wormwood Corporation before. A few excited shouts echoing over the dim of the crowd relieved Spike of that notion. When the goons went for their weapons, the crowd scattered like the roaches in the motel Spike had been living in. Having lost the element of concealment, Spike chose to go with his original plan; running like hell before the assassins could take him out. A swift dash later, Spike was cutting through the crowd like his favorite can opener program shredded encryption.

"One side, outta the way," he said to the pedestrians he scrambled past them. A screaming bullet tore through the air just behind Spike's skull. Despite the fact that this was becoming a dangerously common occurrence for the net jockey, the pedestrians seemed ready to panic. Naturally, even as he was retreating like the average wanna-be edgerunner from a real cop, Spike fought to retain his cool. Another bullet tore through the air, this one missing Spike by a good distance, but still not enough. He realized that he'd have no choice but to return fire.

Calvin scooped up a rock as he ran from Moe's friends. Privately he called these two Larry and Curly, but funny names didn't help him get away from the beating he knew they had in store for him. They had hurled a few rocks at him, but he managed to dodge all of them. He knew he needed something else other than his legs to escape these junior legbreakers, and set his (self proclaimed) brilliant mind to the task. His brilliant mind, however, wasn't working half as well as Spike Speeder's cyberware enhanced brain.

"They're tryin' to kiss me!" Calvin shouted, silently hoping that the accusation would provide some kinda distraction. Much to his dismay, a chorus of laughter was all his attempted distraction earned him. Anyone who believed his line was amused, and the rest who knew what Calvin was in for didn't bother to change their reactions.

"Crap, crap, crap," Calvin muttered as he continued to run. He passed by Susie with nothing more than a glance. Susie on the other hand, sighed heavily. She had seen this coming, she knew Calvin wouldn't have the common sense to stay inside during the excercise break, as the school called it. Still, she hoped he didn't get hurt too badly. But knowing Moe, she didn't count on too much. 


	11. Spike Speeder Chapter 11

This was one of those days when Spike Speeder had to live up to his namesake or end up on a slab in an underground organ market. He was matching the Wormwood thugs in pace, maybe even gaining a small lead over them. But in an age of abundant firearms, being a few meters ahead of people trying to kill you was nothing but proof of determination when a meatwagon swung by to pick up your corpse. That was the way of the Sprawl, after all.

Another bullet swooped past Spike's skull, causing him to run a little bit harder. Unfortunately for him, that didn't mean he was running too much faster. He was cursing his body in his rush, although he was really cursing the parts that were meat rather than metal. Part of him realized that it was his fault, never bothering to upgrade his body with cyberware. Then again, corporate solos always did have all the best luck in acquiring bodies. Except Spike's. That was one body he'd never let them have.

"Fraggin' hitmen!" he screeched as he dashed into one of the Sprawl's many dirty alleyways. The Wormwood Corp thugs were still on his trail, but Spike was a pro, he could handle it. His head jerked upwards as he ran, the sound of pigeon wings flapping in the wake of the attempted assassination. And what he saw seemed to be his salvation; an old metal fire escape, leftover from the days before building regulations were sent into oblivion at the behest of corporate money.

"You're crazy Spike!" the first goon shouted at the netrunner, apparently in regards to Spike's screech. Although Spike didn't think too hard about it, he got that a lot. Probably just jealousy; not everyone could be as hot as Spike, and some could be downright envious of that.

"Spike, you're as good as dead!" the second goon barked behind the netrunner. Spike only eyed the fire escape in front of him. He picked up his pace that last bit more he could push himself before reaching his absolute limit. Damned meat parts. If only he had the money to buy those Chiba cybernetics down at the ripper clinic. Still, Spike had to try.

He raised his arms as his feet left the ground.

While Spike Speeder was scrambling on to the roof of a run down tenement, Calvin found himself desperately scrambling up a dirty metal ladder left on the side of the school. He figured that this would mean as much trouble as he was in after the now nearly mythical noodle incident. He whimpered slightly as he glanced down beneath him. Everyone whispered that Calvin was nuts, but even he had the good sense to realize that he could well break his neck trying this stunt.

Fortunately for Calvin, the creaking ladder encrusted with assorted forms of filth proved to be his salvation, and soon enough he was stranded on the roof of the school's gym. The bullies he code named Larry and Curly scrambled up the ladder behind him, but Calvin reacted quickly and tipped the ladder off of the building side. Larry and Curly glared at Calvin and yelled at him as they realized that they had fallen into the scrawny kid's trap. Calvin only smiled happily and gave them a little wave.

Spike Speeder, years in the future from Calvin's plight, would have been proud. 


	12. Spike Speeder Chapter 12

A scruffy looking janitor with at least three tattoos on his arms and a faint scent of cigarettes clinging to him dragged Calvin into the office of the middle school vice principal who had the ill fortune to get stuck with Calvin as a student. The janitor pushed Calvin into a chair outside the office and went up to the secretary shared by all four of the school's vice principals. While the former strong man was flirting with the middle aged receptionist with an unhealthy fondness for pungent nail polish and fried snacks, Calvin was sulking by himself, enjoying his victory while it lasted.

Also waiting to be disciplined by the school administration was an assortment of malcontents. Calvin recognized a few of them; a shifty looking boy known for his aptitude for theft, a poorly groomed guy Calvin knew as a class clown, and much to his dismay, one of Moe's friends. As his gaze passed over him, Moe's friend recognized Calvin, and gave him a wicked grin that reminded Calvin of a shark. He just shuddered nervously and leaned back into his chair, trying to maintain the appearance of calm cool.

Spike Speeder naturally found himself in a similar situation, handcuffed in a holding cell having been brought in by one of the cybered goons the corporate pawns that jokingly called themselves the Sprawl's police fielded in the urban hells Spike frequented. He glanced at his fellow inmates, an infiltrated he knew through his rep, an anti corporate political activist (who Spike reckoned had been picked up during a protest), and worst of all a combat drug junkie who ran Morris' strike team.

The edge runner fished his mirror shades out of his jacket pocket and placed them over his eyes before trying to relax before being pulled in front of the precinct captain Spike knew on a first name basis. All he could do now was hope that he didn't get a shiv or cyber knife between his ribs from the hit team berserker. Spike shifted only slightly as he waited, kicking himself for getting caught, even if it was inevitable.

Calvin waited a tense twenty minutes before the receptionist told him to head into the office of Vice Principal Cantle, and he promptly headed into the office, dropping his nervousness and dressing himself in his coolest and slickest expression. A pasty skinned man reaching middle age was sitting behind a desk in the office waiting for Calvin. Mister Cantle took one look at Calvin and reached from a bottle of antacids to grab a handful he promptly began chewing.

"Commander Cantle," Calvin said with as much charm as he could manage, now lost in the world of Spike Speeder.

"Mister Cantle, Calvin, not commander, how many times am I going to have to... never mind. Just... tell me how you got up on the roof and why I should suspend you right now," Mr. Cantle said.

"Listen commander, I know you've been itching to put me away for a while, but this one you can't blame on me, and I can prove self defense, any judge in the Sprawl will let me go," Calvin replied.

"Yes," Mr. Cantle said, trying to ignore the strangeness of the conversation he was having, "I was told that you were running from other boys. That does not however justify your stunt out there."

"Stunt? That was a matter of life and death! Those 'boys' as you put it were a crew of hit men trying to geek me right there. You're not about to bring me up on B and E charges when I was running for my life," Calvin replied earnestly, to which Vice Principal began rubbing his temples.

"Why do you hate me Calvin? Why are you trying to send me to an early grave?" Mr. Cantle said after a while.

"Commander Cantle, I'm the last one who'd spaz if something happened to you, and I know you feel the same about me, but I'm telling you the truth this time. I was being chased by hired goons who wanted me as dead as you do, only they were being much more proactive about it than you."

"Yes, well," Mr. Cantle said exasperated after a while, stunned at Calvin's words for lack of comprehension, "Since it does seem you were being chased, you won't be suspended, but you'll be attending detention for the rest of the month and if you don't show up you'll get the suspension I want to give you. Now just go to class and stop bothering me."

"Yes sir commander Cantle," Calvin said with a nod, making a swift exit and back into the halls, feeling as though he had conquered another foe on another battlefield. His futuristic alter ego hit the streets at the same time. 


	13. Spike Speeder Chapter 13

There were a lot of places Spike Speeder, globe trotting hacker and street adventurer, could turn up, but Mr. Quail's fourth period algebra class wasn't one of them. He gazed absently at the room's clock for what seemed to be the on millionth time that day. Calvin vaguely wondered if he got a prize for checking it so often, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. His notebook, a battered old thing he had kept since his founding of G.R.O.S.S., was still open to the notes he had taken earlier in the period, but now he wasn't too keen on writing out another example problem involving some obscure form of equation. Instead he was dragging his pencil over the margins of the sheet, writing the words that were really on his mind.

"Riding down the electron highway at the speed of thought," he wrote to himself.

He could see it then, a silver wire frame gliding through the neon seas free as a bird and fast as a jet. This wasn't much comfort for him, so he pulled Spike Speeder out of the electron highway and into a similar situation. Spike Speeder thus found himself in a cubicle, working for the Quail Computer Systems in menial office position. It wasn't the most dignified path, but it worked wonders for maintaining his cover identity. It was definitely a world of difference from Calvin, who was being forced to stay there at his desk.

"I am a legend in this virtual world," Calvin began etching in his notebook again. Reading over his words again, he realized how much truth resonated in that simple statement. Years had passed since he was last Stupendous Man, Tracer Bullet's adventures had long faded from the streets, and even Spaceman Spiff, the intergalactic hero had flown off into the void of space, but they were still legends in Calvin's mind.

"God willing I'll never be ashamed of the heroes from my past," he wrote further, thinking about some of the things he had been told by the grown ups who seemed to be road blocks in his path, wherever it was taking him.

He looked up briefly to see an unimpressed Mr. Quail staring down at him, and the rest of the class watching him with similar flat expressions of quiet disbelief.

"I'm glad to see that you've found something more important than the lesson at hand, Calvin. Perhaps you could share your findings with the rest of the class, since I'm -certain- that you have discovered something that puts passing my class to shame," he said. Mr. Quail was remarkably sarcastic, and in that capacity he reminded Calvin of his mother, albeit with a sharper, meaner edge.

"Oh, er, just some, ah, random thoughts," Calvin said with a nervous grin. Inwardly he was retorting that he had indeed discovered something more important than some mind numbingly dull formula. He would have given everything short of Hobbes to have Spike Speeder's dry cool wit right then, but that option was likewise closed to him, like every other option he could have wanted to take. Mr. Quail scooped up Calvin's notebook, and frowned as he review the contents of the page it was opened to.

"You stopped paying attention half way through the lesson. I don't suppose Mr. Virtual Legend could solve the problem on the board?" Mr. Quail remarked before tossing the book back on Calvin's desk.

Calvin looked away from the man, seething with anger, a display that only caused Mr. Quail to snort. He tried to think what Spike Speeder, brilliant hacker and wizard of applied sciences, would do in this situation. The answer hit him like a bolt of lightning, and Calvin climbed out of his seat wordlessly and walked up to the blackboard, grabbing a piece of chalk and setting to work solving the math problem laid out by the teacher, taking pains to show his work. Teacher and class watched with restrained amusement as Calvin's brain, which he was still touting as a genius level mind, shredded through the problem like a chainsaw through hot butter. When he was done, he simply turned around and walked back to his seat with a satisfied expression.

"Well," Mr. Quail said as he evaluated Calvin's work, "Could someone come up to the board and show us all how to solve the problem and get the correct answer?"

The rest of the students broke out in laughter, causing Calvin to slump into his seat as though trying to hide. He threw up a false face of indifference, but inwardly, he wanted to respond to his humiliation with something other than submission. It felt as though his intestines were being twisted into knots around his burning lungs. As the bell rang, Calvin sulked out of the classroom silently. The route through the halls he followed was based purely on rote memorization, and by the time he got past his brooding and realized what his next class was, it was too late. He was now trapped in the gym locker room. And there was one word on the dry erase board that the gym teachers used to announce the day's plans to the students that struck dread into Calvin's heart; wrestling. 


	14. Spike Speeder Chapter 14

By the time Spike Speeder came to from being drugged on the streets of the unforgiving Sprawl, he found himself in a metal cage. Beneath his mirror shades, his eyes widened as he realized where he was. He had seen plenty of these cages before, in the illegal blood sport arenas that were a part of the Sprawl's underground culture. He shifted his gaze out of his cage to see a pit fighting arena consisting of a shallow pit and concrete walls on all sides. Spike checked his pockets quickly, and much to his dismay, he found himself completely unarmed. There were others in the cage with Spike, but the hacker had a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't be much help in getting out of this alive. Some of them even seemed eager to engage in a life or death battle for the amusement of Sprawl dwellers. 

The other fighters filed out of the cage into two lines once the order from the pit manager was barked in their direction. Spike, well aware of his small stature, was reluctant to leave, and tried to stay hidden in the cage. The pit boss however wasn't fooled, and grabbed Spike, dragging the skinny keyboard cowboy out into the sidelines of the arena. Spike gulped as he scoped out his potential competition; they were mostly ordinary street people desperate to earn money for sustenance and shelter in one of the most dangerous ways possible. The rest were bruisers, martial artists, leg breakers, solos, and cybernetic horrors (re)built to kill.

"Of all the lousy times to be out of weapons," Spike muttered to himself as the pit boss initiated the first bout. Spike stared down away from the violence and began planning his escape. It was said that the only ways out of the blood sport games was to either kill or be killed. Given Spike's martial prowess, it became clear that he'd have to defy that maxim if he wanted to live. He set his mind to the task of finding a way out, and he set his eyes to observing the matches for information he could hopefully.

The first few bouts were first blood matches that ended fairly quickly. Needless to say the professionals were beating the tar out of the street people. But the line into the arena was steadily moving forward, pushing Spike ever closer to the front of the line, but the hacker held on to his cool. He had cracked enough high security systems to realize that panic didn't help.

However, panic set in once Spike was second in line to be hurled into the pit. It only got worse when he noticed that there was some sort commotion coming from the other line. A mountain of muscle was barging its way forward through the line. At first it seemed only as if one would be fighter was a little over eager to get into a fight. But it was only when the second in the opposite line was replaced did Spike start to panic. He recognized the goons who was pushing his way towards being Spike's opponent. One of Morris' team. Suddenly the pieces fell together in Spike's head; cliched as it sounded, there was a conspiracy, and this conspiracy was out to get him killed. How a lowly strike team leader like Morris got that kind of influence, Spike couldn't say.

Oh well, Spike thought as he was pushed ever closer towards the edge of the pit to await a near certain death. Even as he felt as if he surrendered, Spike was still racking his brain trying to find a way out of this, up until the minute he was forcefully hurled into the pit, meeting eye to eye with mountain of muscle and cellulite with yellow teeth, a pair of Hong Kong made cyber arms and a wicked gleam in his eyes. Spike gulped before he put himself on full alert, ready to dodge the first swing.


	15. Spike Speeder Chapter 15

Calvin didn't enter the faded circle on the weird smelling wrestling mat voluntarily. It took the gym teacher five minutes to force the reluctant, foot dragging tow headed kid into the wrestling ring, and even then he had to shoot Calvin a stern glance to keep him in there. Unlike Spike Speeder, Calvin didn't have many options, but on the upside, his chances of leaving the match alive were greater. Maybe not much greater, but it was moot point by then.

Spike Speeder of course had no interest in Calvin's reality while his life was at stake. The pit fighter took a stance to prepare to lunge at Spike for a split second, but that was all the quick thinking net jockey needed to sidestep the goon, sending his foe's ugly countenance into the concrete walls of the pit.

Meanwhile, Moe's friend, another dumb jerk with more body hair than brain cells whose name Calvin never bothered to learn, charged forward, trying to pounce on Calvin. Thankful for the anti-social recreational activities of his tiger for the first time in his life, Calvin easily dodged the lunging bully, sending him face first into mat. Calvin's problems weren't quite over though. He had no idea what to do with his prone opponent, and that hesitation was all that was needed to turn the tide against him.

Spike wasn't having any better luck. Lacking any better options, Spike took a blind, frenzied swing at his enemy, but this time he wasn't quite fast enough, and the big ugly grabbed his arms in a vise like grip that caused Spike to wince. It hurt like hell, much to the cheers of the roaring crowd. The pit fighter twisted Spike arm behind his back, before grabbing the other arm with another hideous grin that was an ill omen if Spike ever saw one.

Still clutching Spike's skinny arms in his massive canned ham arms, Morris' pit fighter lifted Spike off the ground and then began to spin Spike around like the hacker was a rag doll, eventually releasing Spike before coming to a halt. Spike hit the concrete edge of the pit with a sickening thud, only to be rolled back into action as the pit fighter prepared for another round of attacks.

Calvin wasn't too badly hurt, but getting tossed out of the wrestling ring like a basketball didn't do much for his health either. The rest of the boys, lined up around the wrestling mat, didn't hesitate to push Calvin back into the brawl as the coach looked on with a passive expression, seeming unmoved by the excessive violence occurring on his watch. Calvin only groaned as his torments continued.

Morris' buddy, dim as he seemed, was obviously bright enough to realize that Spike was at his mercy, as Spike could fathom no other reason that his opponent would take his time to twists Spike's already aching legs into shapes that were just barely within the human range of movement. As his nerves screamed about the pain he was in, Spike absently wondered if maybe he'd crawl out of the pit with legs twisted into pretzels like they would in old flat-vid cartoons. Still fearing for his lift, Spike managed to find it in himself to thrash blindly and frantically as his legs were being contorted, rather like a fish caught on a hook. For his trouble, Spike gained nothing more than a few more pains. This was going to be a long fight.

Calvin hissed softly until the moment that Moe's fellow simian goon released him from a leg lock, and it was all he could do to try and regain his footing. It hurt like hell though. Same as it would in the Sprawl.

Back in the Sprawl, Spike's opponent backed up a few steps before charging at Spike again. Kicking himself for not buying those second hand auto-injector cyber parts and loading them with painkillers, Spike didn't have it in him to evade this charge, taking the full force of a body blow to his lanky frame. Needless to say, it also hurt like hell, and the pounding headache that followed didn't help either. It was then that his opponent towered over Spike, his stride and expression screaming about his confidence in Spike's loss and gloating about his own prowess.

"You're gonna die, Speeder," he almost grunted, "But I'm in a good mood, so I'll kill you quick like, but it ain't gonna be easy. Maybe next lifetime you'll think twice before crossin' guys who're better 'en you."

"It ain't over 'til it's over," Spike said as one quote alone came to him.

"Oh, believe you me Spike, it's over."

Spike didn't bother responding to that, opting only to send his foot into the pit fighter's groin as fast and hard as he could, his blood pumping furiously through his body. The guy eeped once before clutching at his package, staggering a bit before loosing his footing. Spike only rose to his feet to look down on his fallen enemy, ready to deliver the killing blow and end this madness until a sudden blast of police sirens engulfed the underground arena, sending the Sprawl residents running. Spike was still dazed by a combination of, even as he was being arrested for the second time in the same day. The only thought that could pierce the mental haze was hoping that he could survive by proving self defense again.

The coach blew on his whistle for the first time in the entire match, which Calvin vaguely recognized as hypocritical having be thrown around the mat and twisted like a jump rope. That didn't stop the coach from grabbing Calvin and dragging him back to Mr. Cantle's office, muttering something about Calvin being a trouble maker. Had he not been hurting as much as he was, Calvin might have been infuriated at the double standard he was getting screwed over by, but having just barely survived his encounter with Moe's buddy, he was too tired and relieved to care. 


	16. Spike Speeder Chapter 16

Tossed back into the vice principal's waiting room, Calvin simply melted into the first chair he could get. He was too tired to do anything else, having just barely survived the wrestling match with the big ugly. The muscles in his shoulder and legs ached and he mentally noted to see the school nurse after he was done being punished and chewed out by Mr. Cantle. Calvin closed his eyes for a split second, trying to day dream about being Spike Speeder in hopes that the day dream would dim the pain. Racing down the post apocalyptic roads and electron highways beat a cramped suburban office any day.

Unfortunately for Calvin, Spike Speeder was back in a holding cell in the custody of the police yet again. He knew the drill, assumed the position and let them drag him away. Naturally pleading innocence by reason of being forced into the pit wouldn't work, so Spike saved his breath. The post apocalyptic roads and electron highways would have to wait. Indefinitely.

Still, the escape into Spike Speeder's fantasy world, was enough to lure Calvin's mind out of the here and now and into his dreams. While to outside observers, Calvin had dozed off, in reality, he was in fact drinking sodas in a penthouse suite loaded with every conceivable technological toy a hacker could want, laughing it up with the hottest neo-geishas and his partner in crime while Morris and his thugs got themselves splattered by the security system and those autoguns Spike had to knock over a Swiss bank's datacore to afford. Real food and fine soda flowed like water and the most secured datastores on the planet were being broken into for fun.

Commander Cantle rudely awoke Spike from his dream by grabbing his arm and yanking him out of the cell block and back into his office. He let go only when Spike was in the office before dropping into his own chair with a heavy sigh. Calvin likewise took a seat, quickly shaking off the weight of his five minute nap.

"Calvin, you've been here twice in one day. You haven't been this much of a headache since the spring dance incident. What exactly is going on this time?" Commander Cantle said, completely unaware of whom he had become.

"Commander Cantle," Spike began, only to be interrupted.

"Mister Cantle!" Commander Cantle snapped, losing his cool as Spike had seen him do only a few times.

"Okay, if we're gonna be chummy, Mister Cantle," Spike said with only the slightest hint of defiance, "Mister Cantle, I was forced into that arena and I had to either fight or be beaten down. You know I'm too scrawny to fight unless it's absolutely necessary, why else do you think I'd be in that place unless I was forced?"

"Calvin, being forced to attend gym class is not an excuse to take a swing at another boy's crotch," Commander now Mister Cantle said with another sigh. Commander Cantle reached for his hip flask at that, taking a might swig of the synthetic hard liquor he kept in there. Vice Principal Cantle wasn't drinking synthetic liquor though. It was only some Jack Daniels.

"Did you see that goon? He was about to kill me! I had to defend myself, again. You think these bruises just appeared out of nowhere?" Spike asked, shrugging off his jacket and shirt to reveal the physical keepsakes he had from that fight. The sight of the purple marks caused Commander Cantle to lean back into his chair with resignation.

"All right. Considering that Kenneth was being rough and that he left bruises like that, I'll just slap you with another month of detention," Commander Cantle said, "On the condition that I don't have to see you again this week. All right?"

"Hey, fine by me, Comman-, er, Mister Cantle," Spike said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Get out of here before I change my mind," Mister and Commander Cantle said at the same time. Spike and Calvin alike were only too happy to oblige.

"I need a vacation," Mister Cantle muttered once Calvin as out of his office, briefly wondering if in fact he should have taken his cousin up on his offer to get him a job as a male escort. 


End file.
